


Teller of Tales

by NoctuaFoxglove



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Tags will be added as characters appear, chapter 10 is zeleren, rating might change but probably won't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctuaFoxglove/pseuds/NoctuaFoxglove
Summary: A collection of ficlets spanning the multiverse, with various characters and levels of seriousness.





	1. Despite Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren

For the first time in a long while, it was quiet.

How long had it been since Jace Beleren had a second to sit down and think? Intellectually, he knew it was months, but if someone had told him years, he would have believed them. An entire plane fighting for survival, a revolution, a civilization destroyed. His mind ravaged, again and again. All within the span of less than a year.

But now, he was back on Ravnica, safely tucked away in his home. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror after having cleaned himself in who knows how long. The other members of the Gatewatch- no, his friends, were away for the moment, enjoying their little slices of calm. He couldn't speak for them, of course. But even during peace, his mind whirled further and further, back through countless memories, sorting through regrets and holding onto the few happy moments like precious gems.

And with his time on Ixalan having loosed even more from the very back of his brain, ones that had been long since buried, there were more now than ever.

Now he knew that, even from such a young age, that life had never been easy for him. Those that didn't see him as something to ridicule or fear saw him as something to use. His chest ached when he finally recognized his mother's face, something that until then he'd only seen in blurred and distant dreams. Her proud smile the only respite in a sea of scowls and disappointment.

Was she still alive? What would she think of him now? He pictured her looking at him as he looked at himself. Would she be frightened of the scars? Saddened by the lines etched on his face even though he was still so young? Worried by the dark circles that persisted under his eyes? And that was before he would tell his stories. Where was the pride in telling her how many deaths he'd lead to? How he was a criminal and a blackmailer, a pathetic dupe in a smuggling ring?

Another thought came to him. A flickering candle in ever-expanding darkness.

Maybe he would tell other stories. Of how hard he had worked to try to make up for what he'd done. How he finally found a place, using his mind to heal and help instead of steal and destroy.

And she would take him by the chin and look him in the eyes. It wouldn't hurt any more than it did looking at himself in that mirror. 

And she would tell him that what mattered is that he survived. No matter what the multiverse threw at him, no matter how hard it had tried to drag him down and take everything away from him, he always stood back up. Broken, beaten, memories torn from him. But alive. Whole. And in the end, he would find his path once more.

 _Despite everything_ , he told his reflection, _It's still you._


	2. Meltdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren, Ral Zarek

Jace had stared down titans that tore worlds apart at the seams. Battled wits with an elder dragon. Kept his composure in situations that would have driven most to madness.

And yet it was a sound, a simple, incessant grinding sound that was breaking him.

Ral had his head and shoulders wedged deep into some machine, riveter in his hand as he did Azor-knows what. Every loud, pounding burst from the tool drove a spike deeper into Jace's brain. Just when he thought he would find a moment's rest, it rung out again and he would pick out some new agonising dimension to the noise.

Every instinct begged him to run. His heart started to pound until he could hear it in his ears but it did nothing to drown out the riveting. Run. Get away. You are in danger. But he was too well-trained. He was a man, not a child, and he would stay and deal with it.

He didn't realize how harmful cognitive dissonance could be, but before he knew what was happening, the conflict started to erode his sanity. He tried to draw in a breath, but his throat held a vicegrip on his airflow. Now he was suffocating, too. No air, no escape, the grinding, pounding metal never stopping. If you cannot run, you can hide.

The noise finally stopped, and Ral unwove himself from the machine. But it was too late. Jace lay on the floor with his knees pulled to his face, body tense. He rocked back and forth, back and forth, his rhythm consistent but clearly panicked.

"...You okay?" Ral asked.

Jace knew he heard words, but their meaning became lost on the way to his thoughts. He opened his mouth to answer but his own ideas were ciphered. All that emerged was a choked, animal whimper. Colors blurred and the scent of oil and burnt metal crept up his nose, blotting out his mind further. Nothing made sense, and he was lost inside his own body.

Ral, eyebrows still raised, reached down to try to snap Jace out of whatever episode he was having, but the mind mage grabbed him by the gauntlet. Ral froze and contemplated pulling away, but couldn't bring himself to when he saw that Jace was stroking over the mizzium surface, over and over.

Smooth, cool metal. Unbroken, unmarred. Stable. Real. Something consistent in a world that for a moment lost all sense. He hummed, light and airy in his throat, and the vibrations in his throat brought him further back to reality.

Ral blinked.

"Okay. I don't think I should have you over when I'm working anymore."


	3. First Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ral Zarek

A burst of phantom wind kicked up the dust underneath Ral Zarek's feet, shrouding his vision in sandy brown. He drew a deep, desperate breath as if he'd just surfaced from under water, and doubled over coughing as his lungs flooded with dry air. He reached out his hand in search of a solid surface to lean on before he collapsed, and found not a stable city wall, but a rough, uneven boulder by his side.  
  
"Hello?"

The word had to force itself out of a throat already ravaged by the choking lack of humidity. It was the natural thing to do, to shout for help when hundreds of people were within a few feet. But as he finally looked up, taking in his surroundings, there were no other people. No structures to be seen, no sound other than the whistle of wind over countless miles of dusty land as it weaved through the rocks and over the dunes. Other than himself, there was no life here, not even plants. The places that weren't covered with drifting sand were cracked and parched. Dead.

He looked overhead, to a sky wider and more blue than any he had ever seen, entirely unobstructed by the tall buildings he'd known. In a way, it held wonder, as for the first time in his life he saw where sky and land met. But it also came with a terrible exposure. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. Whatever dangers this strange place held, they could swoop down on him from that neverending sky and end him in a second. An enormous bright sun beat down on him, and he realized that despite the stifling heat, he wasn't sweating. No, of course he was, he thought. It was just being whisked away by the thirsty air before he could feel it.

He shivered. If he didn't find a way out, or some sort of shelter, he would die in this strange place. Whether dehydration or some other unknown danger would claim him first, he didn't know. And he wasn't about to stay still long enough to find out.

Raising his palms together, he idly made sparks dance between them to remind himself that he wasn't defenseless, and immediately noticed another oddity about this bizarre land. The dry air conducted his electricity wonderfully, but that wasn't the problem. Holding onto the mana to power his magic was an ordeal, and when he did grasp it, it crept up his arms sluggishly like dirty oil. He frowned, and stopped, his hands falling back to his side. Well, it still worked, at least.

There was still the issue of getting out of this hellhole. Somewhere to at least get his bearings and a drink before he tried to find a way back home. As his eyes swept across the land once more, he finally saw it. A landmark, some sign of civilization in this decrepit place. But rather than give him comfort, it just brought more uncertainty.

Two spires, curling in close to each other like a pair of horns. As if a massive beast sat just under the horizon, and would any second rear up and tower above the desert. To the side of the left spire hung a second sun underneath the larger one, exactly the right size to fit between the horns. Too perfectly to be a coincidence.

He wondered, for a moment, what would happen when the sun finally drifted there.

Before he could wonder much more, a horrible, muffled screech broke the silence. From a crack in the ground something burst, wrapping rotted fingers around his leg. He yelped, and turned to confront his attacker, only to be met with a visage of horror, a face pulling itself up from the sands that had peeled partially away from the bone after years of being subjected heat and erosion.

Out of reflex he immediately sent a jolt of electricity down his leg, trying to force the awful creature to let him go. But there simply wasn't enough muscle mass to cause a reaction. Its flesh and bone charred slightly, but its hold remained strong, and it pulled his feet from under him, toppling him to the ground in a cloud of dust. He tried to kick it away, but more hands, two, four, six, burst around him, forcing him down. He saw the flash of yellowed human teeth closing in, and-

And as abruptly as he had appeared on this plane, he vanished, in a peal of thunder and the ghost of a humid downdraft. Raindrops fell onto the groud where he had been, immediately swallowed by a land that had not known water in years.


	4. Potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren, Liliana Vess
> 
> This one is really old, written when I was first getting into the MtG fandom proper, though I'm still reasonably happy with it. Worth noting is I don't really ship Jace/Lili in any context, as it is a very unhealthy relationship, but this is just an exploration of one possibility coming from it. Enjoy, but don't expect too much more content like this.

Some secrets, Jace knew, you didn't have to expend your powers to figure out.

It was easy to see that Liliana's behavior had changed, pretty radically. Jace wasn't the best at reading people without diving into their heads first, but he knew her. There was a slight waver to her confidence, and she held herself slightly lower than normal, just by a hair. Occasionally he would see the slightest flicker around her body, clearly the mark of illusionary magic that only someone trained in the art would pick up. Perhaps, most damningly, she would let no one touch her. Not even him. There was something cold, distant in her eyes when she looked at him, and she would just as quickly turn away. If she indeed was forced to speak with him, it was always short, purely business. The late-night visits to his room stopped abruptly (something that's lack he was already beginning to miss). Even her teasing, ruining the careful organization of his library, the half-sarcastic pet names, all of it stopped.

Whatever it was that she was hiding, it was specifically from him.

He didn't like to think of what he did in response as stalking, really. The euphemism in his mind was merely personal detective work. But what choice did he have? Lili was already very keen to his abilities, when he was using them and how they felt, and any sign that he was trying to probe her mind for secrets would immediately be discovered. The way Liliana was, such an action might force her to flee, if what she was hiding was this important. Despite everything, against every bit of his better judgment, that wasn't something that he wanted, for her to leave and never speak to him again.

With his mental magic only giving him the vaguest sense of distraction overlaying her thoughts, he had to rely on his other specialty; his own illusions. It was a simple trick that he employed quite often, but still his heart raced as he cloaked himself, blending in perfectly with the walls of Liliana's lavish chambers. There he stood and waited, and though he didn't know exactly how long it took it felt like hours. He nearly jumped when the door opened and he heard her voice, felt her thoughts coming closer and closer. There it was, the swagger in her speech as she spoke to the servant, but passively he read her emotions. The truth was she wanted to be alone as soon as possible. As strange as anything else.

The door closed again, and Liliana locked it tight behind her. Just the two of them, even if she didn't know it. She exhaled sharply, sitting on the bed with a sour look on her face. She stared down, apparently between her legs and muttering something that he couldn't quite hear. Her hand rested over her stomach, hovering above it about half a foot. That was bizarre, such an unnatural posture to maintain. That was...

The realization came to Jace quickly, and he felt his own stomach drop as ice spread through his veins.

Of course. That's what she had been hiding. It was insane, that he thought the consequences of their constant couplings would never come, but here it was.

It was hard, so hard, to stay silent when so many emotions started to explode out, flowing like a burst dam through his thoughts. There was a shameful pride from having solved the mystery, but there was also anger, that she hadn't told him, that she'd actively hid something this important from him. Who cared that it was exactly within her nature to do so? More shameful than pride was the tiniest trickle of warmth as memories of exactly how they came to this point made their way onto the mental scene.

But, most startlingly, was something deeper, and something he really couldn't put a name to. It wasn't quite pride, it wasn't quite love, though it did feel a bit like those things. It was a quiet, but powerful longing in his chest to step forward, drop the illusion, and speak with her. The feeling begged him to try to make it work, to convince her that they could become a family. Whatever that feeling was, it desperately wanted to become a father, and everything that entailed.

But it was quite a while, standing there waiting for Liliana to fall asleep so he could leave. And as the time went on that particular emotion twisted itself into an ache in his chest. In the end, he knew he was not one ruled by emotion, and logical thought quickly established its dominance. A family would never work. He had innumerable crushing obligations already, any one of which could easily kill him, either physically or from stress. And Lili... well, she was Lili. It was frankly a miracle the child was still here at all. She would never let herself be tied down by anything and, the second she would be able to, she would wash her hands of parenthood.

The emotion weakly tried to reason that maybe Lili keeping the baby at all was a sign that she still had an affection for Jace, that maybe she wanted this too. But as much as it hurt him, he had to shoot this down too. It curled up in the pit of his stomach and already he could feel it weighing him down.

Finally, Liliana was asleep, her breathing calm and steady, the only sound in the room. He would make sure it stayed that way, masking the sound of his footsteps with illusion. But instead of towards the door, he made his way towards her, slowly and carefully.

The emotion would not get its wish, but he would make some small allowance to it. It was a silly idea, almost sickeningly sappy as he reflected on it. But, as he came closer to her, it felt more and more necessary.

He reached out with his mental powers, careful to avoid Lili's mind. Would this even work? For a moment, he wasn't sure, until... he found it. A tiny flicker of consciousness, barely-formed but achingly, monumentally _present_. He pushed forward, just a little bit more, but there wasn't much to find. They were the most base, primitive thoughts, but even there he could feel boundless potential, that which would only grow.

His illusions hid a tiny, choked, completely involuntary sound that left his throat as emotions exploded in his chest again. He could feel his fingertips shaking as he lingered in that tiny mind, unwilling to leave possibly the only contact with his child he would ever have. He would change nothing, of course. Something in his chest told him that they were perfect, they would grow up perfect.  
All he would leave were a few wiss of memory. A scrap of his voice, a faint image of his own face, just a flicker. He knew better than to add too much to such a fragile little thing. But part of him hoped, maybe years from now, wherever in the multiverse they may end up, his little child would _remember_ , and know that even if their mother was never there for them, someone knows them, and someone loves them. Maybe they'd even find each other again someday. Maybe.

He didn't want to leave. He could have stayed there forever, because he knew when he left, he and Lili would go on feigning ignorance. He couldn't afford to do this every night, because being caught would certainly lead to Lili disappearing. If he couldn't have the family, maybe he could at least keep her.

Though even having to make that decision threatened to snap his heart in two, he eventually, slowly, severed the contact, feeling the tiny consciousness slip away yet again. He had to leave, as now an unbearable weight hung in the room that threatened to crush him, leaving him a mess on the floor. Locking the door behind him, he slipped out, leaving Lili and their child alone.  
He returned to his own room, and like her he locked the door behind him. The outpour of emotion that followed was embarrassing, but, at the moment, it was hardly worth it to be hung up on how he looked or felt. He needed a release, and it was one that he knew no one else would understand.

He gave himself the time to mourn in silence, to purge it before he had to go out and face the others again. He decided on the mantra that would get him through.

"I will get to meet you, someday."


	5. Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ral Zarek (as a child)

He'd snuck outside again, and wandered through streets thick with cool humidity. A few strands of sunlight shone down, trying their best to warm the air. The cobblestone under his feet was wet and slick with fresh rain, which had washed away the unpleasant scents of the crowded city. He breathed in deeply like he'd emerged from underwater.

He pushed past people who never moved their eyes, slipping under their gaze. No one noticed an unattended child. They were too busy grumbling about the bad weather and hoping that there wouldn't be any more of this terrible rain. He wondered what would happen if any of them did look his way. In this tiny district, everyone knew each other, Would they drag him back, scolding him all the way for stepping out of line? He'd heard it all before, a hundred times.

No matter what, he knew one place that no one would look for him.

No one, especially on days like this, looked upwards.

He'd gotten very good at scrambling up buildings, finding hidden ladders or even handholds, and he'd plotted out several perches where he could sit and, for once, be himself. The particular outcropping he'd chosen for today was his favorite, but as time went on he noticed he didn't fit as well on it as he used to.

He was getting bigger. Older. And in a way, that scared him.

How long would it be before he'd stop looking up, too? Would the light in his eyes grow dim, and he would settle into the life that everyone else wanted for him? He'd learned quickly that some things drew praise from the adults, and absolutely everything else only brought eyerolling and derision.

Even something as miraculous as pointing towards the sky as he did now, and with a little effort tracing lines through the clouds, shaping them as easily as clay. Merely rain magic. Mundane and useless. The rains came naturally on their own. They didn't need his help. Do something productive with your time.

The more the words echoed in his head, the more that anger roiled in his chest, and the clouds followed suit, darkening to an angry gray. He'd already figured it out.

If the world would push him down, he would push back, twice as hard.

No one would take anything from him. He would take his potential and hold it close, and never let it go.

His determination streaked through the sky in a blinding flash, arcing through the clouds. The air flooded with the scent of ozone and cracked with a deafening peal of thunder.

He glanced down, and dozens of people, finally, stared up at the sky. At him.

He would make sure it wasn't the last time.


	6. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren

Jace was now on his fourth night without sleep.

His mind reminded him of one of Ral's devices when its internal battery was starting to run low. Occasionally, it seemed to function just fine. Just a little jolt of sensation or a cup or three of coffee would bring it back to normal. But eventually it would slide back down, slow to a crawl, making pathetic sounds of protest as he prodded and jostled and begged it to function.

More than anything, though, he existed in a haze. Everything seemed distant. Present, but only barely, clouded and indistinct like walking around in a dream. Reality and memory blended. He looked down at the papers underneath him and found that the letters on the pages scattered like mice when he tried to grasp them.

Exhaustion. Pure exhaustion.

So why couldn't he sleep?

See, that was the insidious thing about insomnia, he reasoned to himself. Not during the day of course, when his heavy body begged for rest. No, the torrent of thoughts came when it was time to sleep. His bed became an object not of relief, but of dread. With no distractions and no obligations, what should have been an escape from the day turned into an assault of would-have-beens and could-have-beens. Regrets, past embarrassments, comments he could have made but didn't. Constant arguments with himself or some made-up adversary. All of it would whittle down the hours until the sun came up again.

An escape from his own thoughts. But no escape from the exhaustion.

He used to not worry about it too much. Eventually some sort of survival instinct would kick in, or whatever it was called when his body could no longer take anymore and he would quite literally pass out and sleep for fourteen hours. But now during those waking hours someone depended on him. Not things he could simply blow off and take the time to recover. No, now an entire plane, and who knows how many others needed him alert and aware.

And with that brought more regrets and arguments.

Whatever, he thought. It would all work itself out. Especially since, at least now, there were people who would notice the bags under his eyes and tell him to go get some goddamn sleep for once.

Whether or not he could was irrelevant. What mattered is that for the first time in years, someone cared enough.


	7. Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Vraska, Jace Beleren (Mentioned)

He looks me in the eyes.

Always with that trusting smile, his own eyes wide as a child's. He's perfectly aware of what I could do to him, but he doesn't care.  
  
Before I told myself that it was because he didn't know any better. His mind had been wiped. The Guildpact was gone, replaced by a blank slate, some helpless innocent in Beleren's body.

Even after the fall, after remembering everything, he still looks me in the eyes.

He trusts me.

And I think back to what things had been like back on Ravnica. I'd used those same eyes to murder, just to get his attention. To try to get someone, anyone, to listen to those that had been forgotten.

And in doing that, I'd made myself another link in his shackles. Another person wanting to use him, for his status or his skills. Twist him further and further away from who he truly was so that he could become what some outsider wanted him to be.

Some parts of it I don't regret. I know that I acted for the best from what I knew. I wanted things to be better for us, those that I thought were pinned underneath his feet, waiting to be crushed.

But if I knew we'd been so much alike, seen into his heart and mind like I had done before, I wouldn't have done it.

It hurts. It hurts like hell, knowing what's going to come next. I've finally found someone who understands. Who can look into these eyes and not see death, but a friend. And before we can enjoy it, it has to be pulled away.

But only for a while.

I'll see you again on the other side.


	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren

It was frustrating, how few people understood Jace's need for silence.

There were times where the chatter of voices crashed like glass against his ears. They drew his muscles tight as if some string down his spine had been yanked. He would shudder and ask, as politely as he could, for quiet. It could be hard, trying his best not to sound curt or rude, but sometimes the sound was too much, forcing him to match its volume. If all else failed, he would always just leave, hide away.

There was always a chance that he would be met with offense to such an action. Even if outwardly they respected his wishes, inwardly they scoffed. 'I'm not being _that_ loud,' they would think.

Jace often wondered what it was like, to live in a world that was far less overwhelming. Or at least to have a brain that was equipped for the one he inhabited, instead of whatever broken thing he'd been left with.   
But what would he do, with his newfound silence? His estate was his, to study or wander as he wished. But too often, he would find himself seated still. Worries would buzz in his mind in a constant static pattern. His jaw remained clenched, heart rate elevated, but still he wouldn't move. Couldn't. He would watch the library around him as if shut behind a glass pane, occasionally glancing down at the hands of some stranger that looked like him.

He remembered this place.

It was a place he'd learned long ago, usually accompanied by the haze of alcohol, where everything seemed to hurt less. A place he could hide from pain and screaming and horror, put himself to protect something deeper, something vital. But though he no longer needed it, he found himself slipping there without any action of his own.

Intellectually, he knew it was just some vestigial survival reflex. But then why was it so hard to escape? Why then, would he continue to while away hours staring off into space? When even when he had to work he felt mechanical, unreal?

And how would he begin to ask the others to comprehend?

This time, he broke free. It took an immense effort to crash through the glass and force himself to stand. But once he did, it became easier.

He pulled a book off the shelf, determined to become lost somewhere nicer.


	9. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Liliana Vess
> 
> Another old story, but one I found and liked, and realized I never posted. It was written during the Dominaria plot, after the bit with Josu.

She'd gotten used to hearing the voices of the dead.

Once she'd first noticed them, they were always there. Faint whispers, barely understood, on the edges of all sound. Tuning them out was easy enough, as they often faded into silence underneath the din of ordinary life. Most never had much important to say, anyway, tied to some lives that were none of her business.

This place, her home... right from the start she knew it had been different. The whispers tugged at her attention for reasons, at first, she couldn't understand. She felt every hair stand on end as they reached her ears, even as the words still eluded her.

  
At first, she dismissed it. Simply reliving unpleasant memories, confronting much less literal demons for a change. Nothing more than the weight of two centuries.

It was only after her brother's body faded, his words had truly sunk in, that they started to make sense.

_Liliana, there you are!_  
_You have to help us._  
_Help us find him._  
_Put him to rest, the poor thing._  
_We can save him._

She wanted to scream at them, force them silent and tell them that the job was done, but they still clung to that useless vigil, as spirits do. But, as she'd gotten so used to doing, she stayed stoic and firm. No one would see weakness in her. No one.

But more voices played in her head. There were so many now, fighting for attention in her skull. Who even knew which were her own thoughts anymore? Every day, especially in this damned place, she had to shout louder and louder just to hear herself.

Who was she really, buried under centuries of lies and manipulation? No one else knew. That would have been fine if she herself wasn't starting to forget. Did she ever know?

 _Gods,_ she thought, _I'm starting to sound like Jace._

Another voice. A memory. The scream of a man on the verge of death, quickly cut off as its owner vanished into thin air. A stab in her chest that happened too quickly for her to tamp down. She'd heard that sound dozens of times, but this time it _hurt_. It shook something inside her in a way no dead dog could.  
  
She hoped and prayed that her last ally wouldn't notice the tremble that had grown in her hands underneath her cold demeanor, lest the last of her identity be torn away. Not even she knew what lay underneath.


	10. Nap Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ral Zarek (first person), Jace Beleren
> 
> It's time for Zeleren.

"You need to sleep."

The nerve of him, to think he has any place to tell me what I need to do.

"I'm fine."

That answer couldn't be any further from the truth. It's getting harder and harder to read blueprints through the pounding in my skull. I think I've forgotten what language they're even written in. But I don't have any choice but to drag this body kicking and screaming through my work. Resentment roils in my empty stomach. Would I have even needed to take on this much extra responsibility if he'd simply done his job? He should know how this works by now. The guilds can't be trusted. Turn your eyes for a minute and they're at each other's throats.

"You look exhausted. Please, just rest."

I look up at him, eyes narrowed. But i can see that slight frown on his face, the worry in his gaze. Bet he doesn't even have to read my mind. It's right there on my face. I must look like a corpse, and when was the last time I shaved?

But does any of that matter? The Guildpact may have a lot of responsibility, but the plane rises and falls on his whim, everyone here beholden to his will. He could stare Niv-Mizzet in the eyes and tell him to kneel, and the dragon would have no choice but to obey. I do the same and all I can see is teeth.

Every time I think sleep sounds nice, I close my eyes and see what it's like to disappoint the Firemind against my eyelids. That would wake up anyone pretty fast.

"Can't... I have work to do." I grunt out. Maybe he'll listen this time.

He walks over to me and runs those delicate fingers through my hair. A tiny smile flickers on his lips when he hears me sigh. It feels nice.

"Honey... You have to take care of yourself."

It's like he grabbed a cord on my heart and yanked, pulling me in place like a carriage horse. That name. He knows that name always gets to me.

"Jace, I-... I really can't drop this right now..." Krokt, I haven't stammered like that since I was a kid. Maybe not even then. My face starts to burn, and I try not to look him in the eyes.

"Yes you can. I'll make sure you won't get in trouble, alright?" Those archivist's hands are at my shoulders, digging in and untangling tightly-knit muscles. His voice is a cool breeze carrying the scent of rain, bringing me to better places than this desk.

"...Fine. Whatever." It's a last-ditch effort to regroup my image, but the tone of my voice gives it away. I know it does, and I don't even care. He guides me to my feet and over to my bed, helping me to get comfortable. Fuck, it feels so good, to be off my feet, to have my back against something that isn't that hard chair. But my mind is still in the middle of the storm. I can't just banish the worry, let loose my fear.

But he knows that. He always does.

"Shhh...." Here comes the breeze again, his hands guiding my eyes closed. I've gotten used to him pressing his mind into mine, his touch so delicate, reverent, _loving_ , that the tug in my chest becomes a beautiful ache. He chases the clouds away and dims the lights, lower, lower, until the blissful surrender of consciousness takes hold.

"That's better. Good night, honey."


	11. First Invention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jace Beleren, Teferi
> 
> Sensing potential in his new teammate, Teferi decides to share with Jace some ancient knowledge lost to the sands of time.

Jace couldn't help but be fascinated by Teferi.

The time mage always seemed so serene, a gentle smile on his face, staring off into nothing. But Jace could feel the ancient mind swirling just underneath. This was a man who had seen the passing of thousands of years, and his thumbprints were etched on the history of the entire Multiverse. And there he was, on their side! On his team! What knowledge! What raw potential! Jace couldn't help but be giddy, just thinking of what he could learn, not secondhand from dusty old tomes, but from someone who was _there_.

It was surprising, then, that Teferi approached him first. Jace had heard stories of what planeswalkers were like before the Mending. As gods who shaped worlds as easily as breathing, and, more pressingly, cared little for the affairs of mere mortals. Teferi had tasted that power, a level of control that Jace could never comprehend, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

The time mage pulled him aside, a serious look on his face. Jace couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated.

"You," Teferi spoke, in a soft and earthy voice. Not entirely what Jace expected, but there was still a definite power behind it. Jace swallowed, trying to stand as straight as his stature would allow.

"Ah... yes...?"

"You seem like a smart boy," Teferi answered, "Always with your head in the books. It reminds me of myself when I was in the Academy. It's for that reason I'd like to share something with you, and only you."

Jace's eyes lit up, and a smile crossed his face. This was it!

"With me? Are you sure?" he chirped.

"Oh, yes." Teferi's own smile grew wider in response, "You see... During my schooling, I was already something of a prodigy." He reached into one of his satchels, pulling out something loosely wrapped in a silk handkerchief, holding it loosely in one hand, "I would tinker in my spare time, even sometimes during class."

Jace leaned closer, eyes now locked on the mysterious item in Teferi's hand. The time mage continued.

"The professors, they didn't understand me. They tried to shut me down, confiscate my work. But they could never stop true progress. Even if I wasn't conventional, I persevered. And I made a device that changed everything."

" _Changed everything..._ " Jace mouthed. Before he could stop himself, he reached for the device, overwhelming curiosity guiding his movements. But he stopped himself. Best not to be rude. "May I see it?"

"Of course." Teferi said, lowering his voice, "But, please be careful. Activate it, but only once, with this button right here." He unwrapped the device, a small and slightly-glowing orb with dull metal bits sticking off of it, and rolled it carefully into Jace's trembling hands. "Press the button, and maybe you will understand what they could not."

With his heart about to pound out of his chest, Jace rest his thumb against the raised switch, took a deep breath, and pressed, ready to face the arcane knowledge of Teferi's first creation.

The orb emitted a long, drawn-out fart sound.

It took Jace a moment to comprehend what had just happened, but what was clear was the sight of Teferi, doubled over and and snorting with barely-contained laughter.

"I... Wh... Huh?"

"See?" the time mage barely managed to squeak out, "I told you you'd understand!"

"But... I thought you said..."

"I did." Teferi gasped for air, trying to control himself long enough to give an answer, "It was the first thing I invented. However, you see, I was a terrible student."

"O-oh..." It was an important lesson for Jace, alright. That Teferi was not quite the godlike figure he'd built up in his head. No, he was definitely human.

More than merely human. A man with a definite appreciation for puns and dad jokes.


	12. Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Yuuki Crystal-Voice (Original character, Kitsune planeswalker)

In the culture of my home, it is said that every person has two faces. One is the face that they show to the world, and the other is the one that they wear just underneath. Their true face.

The faces I show to the world are many, entire wardrobes of masks grinning and glaring from every angle. Outfit after outfit hung in neat rows, ready to be tossed on backstage. Every show I'm someone different. Male, female, falsetto or natural tone, my voice carries, reaching into the hearts of the audience with song or speech. My masks pull them in, center their eyes on me. I always draw applause. They love me.

Or, rather, they love the character.

It's not that it's an empty life. My heart races. I drink in the adoration, the knowledge that I've made them happy, made them feel something. I wasn't thrust into this life. I chose it.

But what is the other face I wear?

Honestly, sometimes I don't know. It's retreated so far behind the masks that I only get small glimpses of it. It is soft and malleable and timid as a deer, so afraid of having its little throat ripped out that it hides behind the larger-than-life. Characters on the stage are absolute. Their beings are written on the page and on the stage, safe from the hands of others. Living narratives are more fragile. People love to see the mould broken in fiction, but they so rarely tolerate deviance in their real lives. My fellow actors are not so different from myself, and I've heard their stories, as well as lived my own experiences.

Make no mistake, however. My life is no surrender. My masks give my true face freedom. I know it is meek and quiet, and the personas give it a quiet glade to sleep in peace while storms rage around it. I can tap into their strength when I need to, and from that silence I've pieced together, slowly, who I really am.

I just have to step lightly, lest I lose sight of it entirely.


	13. A New Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Vivien Reid
> 
> Vivien is a character I really want to like and love the idea of a lot, but as of right now I find her execution really weird and contradictory to her backstory. So I wrote a little drabble about how I'd interpret her after the War of the Spark.

I've found a quiet place, away from the crowded, suffocating streets of Ravnica. Away from the carnage left behind in the war. It's over. The dragon is dead, and we are free.  
  
So why do I feel so hollow in the wake of this victory?  
  
This plane is called Zendikar, and not too long ago it also stared into the face of its own death. I rest now in a forest of young trees, rising out of a field of bone-white dust. The catastrophe happened some time ago, and already the land, with some help, is starting to reclaim what it lost. I'm relieved, but I feel the ache in my chest. I see so much of Skalla here, and my home would never get this chance at rebirth. Not even dust remained of it.  
  
Not that it matters now. Revenge has been had, and now, I find that there is nothing for me to do but wander and think.  
  
A pack of small, wolflike creatures wander by, a few glancing my way and baring their teeth slightly before moving on. Gnarlids, I've heard them called by the locals. I observe, but leave them be, until I notice that one near the back is limping, quickly losing sight of the others. Its tongue is lolled out, grunting with exertion as it tries to keep up. I follow until the creature finally falls back onto its haunches, too exhausted to continue its pursuit. Its breathing is heavy, eyes glazed over, the injury on its back leg blackened and stripping the fur from the flesh. A severe infection, probably gained from a fight with another animal.  
  
Nothing that can be done. This poor thing is on the brink of death.  
  
I move in, and it raises its head, snarling at me half-heartedly before it falls back to the ground with a groan of pain. Lowering my posture, I try not to threaten it, pulling the Arkbow from my back.  
  
"Shh... It's alright," I speak, in a soft, soothing tone, "It'll be over soon. I'll keep your memory alive." I trace the artifact over its body, the cool green light reaching out, cradling the animal in its embrace. Its breathing slows and it curls up as if sleeping, nose to tail. Humming a song from my childhood, I guide the thing into a deeper rest, watching the ghostly image of its body, healthy and whole, rise into the bow and meld with its surface, sinking inside it. The Bow cannot by itself put the creature down, so I take my knife and do it myself, sliding the blade between the first few vertebrae. The death is swift and painless.  
  
I've been through this process countless times, but this is the first time I've performed it since the War, since I've been trapped in this emptiness. That's probably why I start putting too much thought into my actions. I look down at the gnarlid, the poor creature finally having found stillness and peace, and it's the closest I've felt to complete since.  
  
Isn't that my responsibility? To protect those in the multiverse that can't protect themselves? That have no voice as titans rage around them and cut them down without a second thought? That no one else will stand up for?  
  
I step away from the body, walking a short distance away. Running my fingers along the bow's string, I conjure the ghost of the gnarlid, when it was alive and whole. It bounds into the grass with a fully functional back leg, rolling onto its back and kicking its feet in bliss. It's only an image, bound to the will of what I ask it to do. But at the time, I've asked it to enjoy its rebirth for a few moments. I take the time to observe what it was like when it was healthy.  
  
I can't help but smile as I watch it. But it doesn't last long. What was I doing before the War broke out? Since Skalla was destroyed? I told myself that I did what I did for them, by tearing down the stinking, corrupt cities that encroached on their lands and used them. My mind returns to the carnosaur, tied to the table and vivisected. For what? Entertainment? And the sickness roils in my stomach, just as it had then.  
  
But I remember more details now, with distance put between me and the heat of the moment. The poor in that city, the humans, themselves animals trapped in their own cages of poverty and oppression. I do remember pitying them, but my hatred for their oppressors quickly drowned out my sympathies. In the end, I'd never even tried to make the distinction, and they all met the same fate, deserving or not.  
  
The gnarlid, and indeed, none of the animals the Arkbow contained, knew no hatred or desire for revenge. They knew life and death and pain and pleasure. Those were human urges I'd given into. In my own nature, of course, but to what end?  
  
Was it even a desire for revenge? Or was it some sort of desperate scrambling to respark Skalla's old wars? Trying to cling to some familiarity? Who knows.  
  
It doesn't matter now. The dragon is dead now, and in the Arkbow rest the hopes and lives of all of Skalla, even the parts I didn't like. Every hand had come together to make it, as much as it hurts me to admit.  
  
I'll never like the cities of any plane, let that be known. I don't entirely regret what I've done, in regards to tearing down that which needed to be purged. But violence and blind revenge are my own selfish pursuits, and not in the interests of those I am bound to protect.  
  
The image of the gnarlid has faded away by now, slipping back into the Arkbow. I too should probably leave. There's much more to be seen, and much more to save.


End file.
